


Should've Listened to Lambert in the First Place

by minutiae



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aiden is a Yoga Teacher, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Because of Reasons, Because of Yoga, Canon Disabled Character, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Yoga, OSHA violation, Why Did I Write This?, Yoga, but not for long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: This is Courtesy of the BIKM server, but mostly the fault of Rawr. <3  this was very nearly titled 'Rawr's Yoga Thing' 🤣The pining nonsense is my own because apparently I can't write anything else, but Locktea was the best in making this presentable.This is 100% self indulgent resolution of mutual pining, featuring Lambert making things worse (better?) and Geralt finally getting what he always wanted.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 59
Kudos: 115





	Should've Listened to Lambert in the First Place

Geralt tossed the physio’s paperwork on the kitchen counter when he got home, swinging his bag onto the hook on the wall. Through the scattered afternoon sunlight, he could see Eskel stretched out on their couch, arms crossed behind his head. Lambert was seated on the backrest, feet tucked under Eskel’s long legs. Geralt admired for a moment the sliver of skin that peeked out from under Eskel’s shirt, as they both heckled the cooking show. Geralt had spent so many years admiring his best friend now that he hardly bothered to be subtle about it. Either Eskel didn’t care, or didn’t mind.   
  
Geralt limped slowly over to the big easychair that Eskel had bought him for Yule. It was an extravagant gift, one that far outshadowed the Cameo zoom meeting Geralt had snagged for him. He’d been hunting for the professional baker’s new cookbook and managed to snag a two hour private class for Eskel.   
  
He’d glowed for weeks afterwards. Geralt and Lambert both gained weight that holiday season, with Eskel trying to perfect every tip the sweet young chef had given. She had been so delighted with a fan who was solely interested in her baking expertise that they still emailed occasionally.   
  
Lambert scrambled over Eskel, beating him to Geralt’s side by the sheer fact he stepped deliberately on his balls while climbing over him. The sympathy cringe made him flinch, which only had them both worry more. Lambert waited for Geralt to nod before sliding a hand around Geralt’s waist, taking his good arm. After he was settled in the chair, Eskel had already fetched a bottle of water and his pain meds, which he waved away.   
  
“Bad day?”   
  
“Mmmhmm.”   
  
Lambert was ignoring them, rapidly tapping on his phone before flinging it carelessly at the couch.   
  
“I ordered food. What’d the bonebreaker have to say today?” Geralt just grunted, but Lambert had already grabbed and was looking over the paperwork on the table. “I fuckin’ told you years ago to try yoga. A good instructor will modify poses for you. Yoga isn’t physio. It’s not gonna hurt.”  
  
He stopped, tossing the papers on the table before continuing. “Well. Not hurt in the same way.”   
  
“Wasn’t this your last meeting?” Eskel was still squatting by the chair, big eyes always so expressive. He hated it when Geralt had bad days, and would fall over himself to help. It was a large part of the problem, really. How can you not fall for someone who looked at you like that? So Geralt put his big hand directly on Eskel’s face and shoved him over, the big man laughing as he rolled. The car crash that destroyed Geralt’s arm and leg also tore up Eskel’s face- both of them finding comfort and guilt in each other.   
  
So when Geralt grumbled he would _not_ be going to embarrass himself in a yoga studio, no one was surprised when Eskel offered to go with him. Moral support, of course. Lambert snorted, and the topic was dropped in favor of the delivery.   
  
Lambert waved his fork at them both, perched on the arm of the couch, a container of noodles that he was clearly not intending to share in his fist.   
  
“Look, I know a place you can go. Both of you. Super chill. Been going for nearly a year. Come on, it’ll be a beginner class. Easy.”   
  
“This is your boyfriend’s place, isn’t it?” Of course Eskel paid attention.   
  
Lambert nods, shoving noodles in his face placidly. He knew the benefits of flexibility and enjoyed them quite regularly, and enthusiastically. Geralt just rolled his eyes and nodded. It wasn’t an enthusiastic response, but it was assent well enough. A single text later had them booked into a beginner’s class for the next week.   
  
It did not go well. Geralt was clearly uncomfortable to the point of over preparing, Eskel trying to listen to Aiden’s short introduction only to find himself far too distracted from the fact that Geralt had dragged him out to purchase actual yoga pants. He felt nearly nude in his own, and had underestimated exactly how well they would outline absolutely _everything._ Geralt’s thighs were criminal.   
  
Only two spots were left at the far right of the class and with a shove, Geralt claimed the back corner. Eskel dropped his mat in front of Geralt, sighing. He watched Lambert, who Aiden positioned in the front of the class to help lead the class, bullying him into position with a pout. Eskel attempted to follow along with the warm ups. Lambert often joined them on their gym days, and Eskel had spotted him often enough to know that Lambert was nearly matched with him in strength. And yet here he was, gliding easily and smoothly through poses, nearly folding himself in half.   
  
Aiden’s laughter caught his attention, his bright eyes sparkling. He launched into another clearly rehearsed speech, dissuading the notion of ‘no pain no gain’. Yoga, he claimed, was not meant to hurt. He moved like a dancer, sliding through the rows, complimenting form and carefully correcting a few poses. He slipped past Eskel with a smile, and he heard him lean and whisper something to Geralt, before breezing back past Lambert, trailing a hand up his spine, making Lambert growl.   
  
After the warmups were done, Aiden started moving them through poses, passing out foam blocks as he walked through the rows. He helped two different people modify their pose before coming back over to Geralt. This time, Eskel had been turned to the side, and could see Aiden drop the blocks beside Geralt, offering a modification that he growled at, but accepted.   
  
Back at the front of the room, Lambert moved them gracefully into the next pose, the room slowly shifting with him, turning Eskel’s face back towards the front of the room. Aiden chattered about modifications to poses. Everyone had different starting points and strengths, and yoga was meant for the long term, slow stretching and improvement. He waved Lambert up, who just grumbled.   
  
“You make me do this _every time.”_ _  
__  
_ “And _every time_ you get just a little bit farther.”   
  
Lambert grumbled and sighed, but it was easy to see by his lazy posture and small smile he’d do anything Aiden asked. He stretched through a pose, stopping at Aiden’s touches, a visual example to how far his flexibility had come. Lambert’s muscles quivered, holding the pose, moving incrementally before he was folded nearly in half. Eskel wasn’t sure if the noise he heard was him, or Geralt behind him.   
  
But then, delighted, Aiden drew a leg up behind him and stretched himself out into a long, impressive split. Then with a smirk, tilted his hips down and folded himself over even further. Eskel sucked his breath in through his teeth. He had underestimated exactly how intriguing yoga would be. The class continued on, Eskel doing his best to be respectful which was incredibly difficult with how Aiden seemed to delight in fixing his posture.   
  
At one point, Aiden stood before him, and softly asked to touch. Eskel glanced up and nodded before hanging his head back down, catching Geralt watching with wide eyes. Aiden pressed a hand to the center of his back to encourage the curve. He wasn’t as far down as some of the regulars, but Geralt was no longer in his line of sight. He wasn’t sure why this was called a downward dog, and was feeling terribly exposed with his ass in the air, but he heard Geralt curse, and the sound of him falling to the mat. Aiden’s laughter was light, so he held the pose quietly. 

  
The class continued to be an utter disaster for Eskel, who both felt out of place and the weight of Geralt’s glare behind him. Every time he looked, those golden eyes were watching him. The class itself was quiet, and even Aiden’s chatter was in a soft voice, so there was no privacy to ask if Geralt was still comfortable. But they could get through one class. One class of wearing embarrassingly tight pants, and attempting flexibility that Lambert made look absolutely effortless. 

  
The class couldn’t end fast enough, and Geralt ducked into the washroom as Eskel cleaned and rolled up their mats. Lambert sauntered over, a lazy grin on his face.    
  
“I told you.”   
  
“I should probably deck you for telling Geralt to get yoga pants.” He gestured to Lambert’s loose harem pants. “Those look far more comfortable.”   
  
Lambert just winked at him. “Aiden,” he called over one shoulder, “I think you’re right.”   
  
“I’m always right.” Aiden stalked over, cheery demeanor gone now that the last of the clients left and the doors were shut. While they were talking he had pulled long purple drapes over the front windows of the studio, and another long set that hung on tracks that curved around, blocking the foyer from view. The room now felt much smaller, more intimate with the soft music and dimmed lights. “Eskel, dear. Lambert was telling me you two would likely… benefit from private lessons. I believe my little Lamb to be quite correct. Neither of you seem very comfortable in the…  _ recommended attire. _ ”   
  
Eskel would’ve called it a leer. It probably wasn’t. Lambert was quiet and still, as Aiden leaned back, nudging Lambert into curling around him, resting a chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, and Aiden absentmindedly scratched fingers through his beard as he continued. “We do offer hot yoga, but only within private lessons. They’re usually in the evenings, the room closed off as such. Come back next week, Thursday at 8pm. It’ll be just the four of us and I think you both will find it far more rewarding.”    
  
Eskel did  _ not  _ squeak when Geralt rumbled from behind him, “We’ll be here.” He gathered up their bags, putting the mats away while desperately attempting to contain his blush. Geralt had looked flushed as well so he could probably explain it as because the room was quite warm. 

  
The week went fast. Eskel was skittish all week, stress cooking. Geralt just watched him, offering to dice or mix, but often was just shooed towards the sink where he sat on his tall stool and washed the dishes quietly. He wasn’t sure why Geralt’s gaze felt so much heavier this week, but he needed to get it under control. They’d been friends for so long now that Eskel couldn’t remember a time that he didn’t love Geralt with all that he was. It was okay. He could do this. Geralt wanted moral support, and if Lambert’s incredibly flexible body was any indication, this could be a very good thing. Or a very bad thing.    
  
It was a very bad thing. They showed up to Aiden’s studio to find it unlocked, soft music playing. The heat took their breath away, or perhaps Aiden did. He danced gracefully around Lambert, who knelt nude in the middle of the studio, eyes wide and watching Aiden in the mirrors on the wall. They shifted the curtains back, and Aiden called behind him, not stopping his slow dance around Lambert.    
  
“Lock the door behind you. There are robes, if you’re shy. We can start whenever you’re comfortable.”   
  
A small chair stood to their right, two folded robes sat on it, one white and one red. Geralt eyed the robes, shrugged, and dropped his bag, stripping down without preamble. He took the white robe and a mat, striding to the center of the room. Eskel stumbled to follow, nearly tripping out of his shoes and dropping the robe. Lambert stayed placidly unconcerned, eyes closed. He could’ve been meditating, but when Eskel tripped the second time he saw the tilt of a smirk on the bastard’s face.    
  
Aiden guided Geralt towards the front, next Lambert, and waved Eskel to his other side. The robes were ignored, and Aiden asked them both again if he was allowed to touch before they began. Bottles of water and towels were placed on the robes, and they were ready to begin.   
  
The room had been pleasantly warm when they first entered, but as Aiden moved them through their warm ups, holding poses longer, the heat of the room began to be oppressive. Eskel glanced up in the mirror to see the shine of sweat on both Lambert and Geralt’s backs, long legs stretched out behind them. Aiden gave him a wink as he ran a hand down Lambert’s leg, moving him into a modified pose.    
  
Eskel was watching very respectfully when Aiden moved to Geralt next, speaking quietly as he moved them into their next pose, facing forward to the mirror. The bones that had been shattered in Geralt’s arm often caused him pain, but he’d worked hard in physio and in the gym to keep the strength he’d built over the years. Eskel admired the dedication and perseverance, and was absolutely not going to let his gaze follow the trail of chest hair downwards. Geralt caught his eyes in the mirror, raised an eyebrow, and shifted his knees slightly farther apart.    
  
They moved on, Aiden stretching them out, and quite frankly, winding Eskel up. It seemed every pose they did was set up for Eskel to suffer thoroughly. The wide V of his legs spread, his head dropped deep below, leaning first one way, and the next, there was nearly nothing Eskel could do to hide his obvious enjoyment of the view but he tried. Geralt was here spread wide open in front of him like a dream.    
  
“Let’s get some proper stretches done now, these are best done with a partner. Lambert, the lights.”   
  
Aiden’s voice was soft, but firm, and Eskel’s eyes were wide as Lambert dimmed the lights farther. He turned to see Lambert lounged in the single chair, drinking water. He was sprawled, legs spread, and clearly Eskel was not the only one  _ affected _ by the room’s sensual ambiance. A smirk and a wave had Eskel turning back to the best and most devastating sight he’d ever seen. Geralt knelt, legs spread, Aiden guiding his position as he stretched his arms out straight in front of him, letting his head hang low in a deep puppy pose.    
  
“Eskel.” Aiden was firm, but still hadn’t raised his voice, but Eskel jumped all the same. “Hold his hips, you’ll need to help support his weight. This pose can be hard on his leg, but will be very, very good to stretch out that back.”    
  
Geralt’s back was a long line before him as Eskel knelt behind him on the mat. Aiden padded around them both, before nudging Geralt’s arms slightly and his balance shifted and it pulled Eskel half an inch closer. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Eskel glanced up at Aiden, wild eyed, to see the man slip a handkerchief from one robe pocket and offer it up. Eskel frowned, snorting, and Geralt hummed.    
  
“Everything is fine, Geralt. Let Eskel take your weight. Spread your knees more if you can.”   
  
He was trapped, by the mirror, by Aiden’s imperious eyebrow, and Lambert quiet behind him. His dick had betrayed him and his balls were aching. Geralt was spread open in front of him like every wet dream he’d ever had about the man. 

  
“Press gently, right on his lower back, no, your other hand. Keep that hand on his bad side. Now firmly, slide up.” Aiden circled around behind Eskel, giving them the illusion of privacy. Something deep popped down Geralt’s spine and he melted slightly with a soft gasp, as Eskel tightened his grip on his hip. Geralt swayed gently, and the electric spark of Eskel’s dick brushing the cleft of Geralt’s ass made his brain short circuit and it was all he could do for a moment to hold Geralt up and himself  _ away.  _ _  
_ _  
_ The head of his now dripping cock was hovering centimeters from Geralt’s soft pink hole. His hand was still pressed to Geralt’s back when Lambert appeared, deftly plucking his hand off of Geralt’s. Without breaking eye contact, Lambert pops the cap of a small bottle open, and raises an eyebrow. Eskel sucked a breath in through his teeth, and glanced down at Geralt.    
  
With a huff and a sigh, Lambert leaned down slightly, nudging Geralt in the face with the bottle before he brokenly mumbled,  _ “Please.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ Lambert, being the little shit that he is, eyes Eskel’s refusal to let go of Geralt’s bad side and rolls his eyes, pouring out what was probably far too much lube in Eskel’s hand before dropping the bottle at his knee and slinking away.    
  
Eskel strokes one thick, calloused thumb gently over that soft, pink skin. Once he brushes over that soft furl, Geralt shudders, and Eskel instinctively pulls him close, the head of his cock brushing over the now slick skin, making them both gasp.    
  
The music, the yoga, everything is forgotten as Eskel works his fingers slowly into his best friend, the lube making it sloppy and slick, as Geralt shudders and moans quietly, pressing back onto his hand. His hands braced on his mat, the curve of his back down before him gave him an excellent view of the muscles of his back as he arched with a low groan, fucking himself back on Eskel’s hand. They’d lived together long enough that Eskel knew what Geralt’s sex noises were. These soft moans were heartbreakingly familiar, but when Eskel slips a third finger in, stretching his dearest friend wider, the pitch changed.    
  
A movement in the mirror caught his attention and he faltered, hand slipping out to a soft whine from Geralt. Aiden perched on Lambert’s lap, robe discarded on the floor. Lambert had a lip caught between his teeth, eyes wide and hazy, focused only on Eskel. Aiden winked, before leaning back and raising himself up slowly, legs spread giving Eskel a  _ very _ good view of Lambert buried deep in him. Aiden settled himself back down, turning to whisper in Lambert’s ear, and Eskel could see from here the muscles jumping in Lambert’s jaw, the sweat dripping down his forehead.    
  
He glanced at Geralt in the mirror only to be caught in his hot, golden gaze, as Geralt pressed back into him, Eskel’s cock sliding over his hole, his entire ass a sloppy mess. Every slick slide of the head of his cock past Geralt’s hole was addicting, these sounds were nothing like Eskel had ever heard him make before. He knows he’s being watched, he can hear the soft growls and soft words of them speaking but he can’t look away from the gift before him.    
  
He lets one hand roam, shifting the other to a better grip to support Geralt’s leg as he explores. That soft whine he’d never heard before, and when his slick hand slides down, sliding his fingers in, working him open before his thumb glides gentle circles on the back of his balls, and Geralt wobbles and  _ whines.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Eskel soothes him with a hand, sliding up his back before gripping his hips with both hands. There’s a line here that he’s terrified crossing will end in heartbreak but… these sounds. The trembling, the heat in Geralt’s eyes in the mirror and he grasps for what he’s desperately wanted for so many years. The slick slide of his cock through the cleft of Geralt’s ass has them both trembling and he glances up one last time, to see a positively wrecked Lambert, clinging to Aiden, hair dishevelled, face pressed into his shoulder. Aiden hasn’t moved from his perch on Lambert’s lap, but he’s flushed and sweaty, a hand slowly stroking his own cock. His eyes were bright and hot, and he tips his chin up at Eskel, a clear command to continue.    
  
Eskel turns his gaze back to the man panting before him, the head of his cock resting against his slick hole until Geralt growls out, “ _ Eskel.”  _ Geralt’s weight is shifted back, heavy against Eskel’s grip as he finally presses just the head inside, watching with rapt attention how Geralt’s rim stretches, glistening and pink around him. The desperate keen that Geralt makes as he pressed the crown of his cock in is intoxicating, and Eskel rocks slowly, entranced at visual of how  _ good _ it looks. He can feel the coiled tension in Geralt, and he holds him firmly, catching his eyes in the mirror. The desperation on Geralt’s face was clear, and Eskel gives a momentary thought to making him  _ beg. _ _  
_ _  
_ Eskel is a patient man. He has been his entire life. He moves slowly, enjoying what life gives him and willing to wait for more to come. But destiny has taken far too long in giving him this, and he will not wait any longer.    
  
He watches every inch slowly sink in, moving more slowly than he ever thought himself capable of. The moment his groin is pressed tightly to Geralt’s ass and he’s as deep as he can go, Eskel is positive that this is the most amazing thing he’s ever felt. He can feel Geralt’s growls rumbling under his palms, holding him tight and close. The small whines he’s heard just in the last few minutes are unlike anything Eskel has ever heard through the too thin walls of their apartment. He’s spent too long guiltily stripping his own cock at the soft moans and whispers and now he wants to find out exactly what kind of noises he can draw out of him. He wants those sounds, and he wants them  _ loud.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Geralt is strong in his own right but he cannot fight against Eskel’s superior strength when he draws himself out as slowly as he went in. Geralt gasps out a soft sob at the inexorable drag across his prostate. Eskel gasps at the sound, when a growl and the slick sounds from the chair behind him tips him over the edge of his control.    
  
He thrusts, hard and deep. He wants to fuck Geralt until he  _ cries.  _ Geralt scrambles to grip the mat, the sheer force behind Eskel plowing into him, makes him gasp and moan. His own cock has been aching and leaking since Eskel first slipped one thick finger inside of him. He’s dropped onto his elbows, Eskel pressing him forward for a moment before he growls, lifting Geralt with two huge hands gripping his thighs. Geralt stares at him in the mirror as he  _ lifts,  _ wrapping his legs around Eskel’s body, carrying the majority of Geralt’s weight but also changing the angle of his thrust. Eskel grins, knowing the scars twist his expression into something feral, but he won’t be stopped now until Geralt comes, preferably screaming.    
  
He is thankful for every day he’s ever spent in the gym, ignoring Lambert’s teasing about his already massive weight as he easily drives into Geralt with force. He fucks him hard and deep, the moans evolving into babbled sobbing with every drag over his prostate. Eskel can feel the tension and pleasure ratcheting higher and higher in Geralt’s body beneath him, driving him closer and closer to orgasm. Eskel grunts, tightening his hold of Geralt’s hips. He starts to growl, “C’mon Wolf, I’ve got you. Come for me.” Geralt’s hands clench tighter into the mat, and as he comes it’s with a choking sob of Eskel’s name as his dick twitches and spurts untouched. It was close, Eskel desperately held off but the fluttering muscles of Geralt’s orgasm tip him over the edge. The sweaty, writhing, desperate man below him was  _ his _ now and he grinds in deep and fills him, desperate and growling.    
  
He rolls his head to glance at their audience, but Aiden has turned around, kneeling over Lambert, plundering his lover’s mouth with his own. Eskel gets a view of exactly how much they both enjoyed the show they just watched as it dribbles down the back of Aiden’s thigh.    
  
Turning his attention back to his wrecked best friend, still trembling in his hands, Eskel gently sets his knees down on the mat. Reaching for the towel beside them, he starts gently cleaning the excessive lube off of Geralt’s back and thighs, paying special attention to his sensitive dick as he cleans his stomach too. He soothes Geralt with a gentle stroke to his thigh when he whines softly as he slips out. He’s as gentle as he can be as he cleans up Geralt, the big man nearly boneless as he’s coaxed into the soft robe. His smile is dazed and soft, and Eskel can’t help but flush as red as the robe he’s holding at the reminder that it was  _ him _ that drew those noises out of the man he loved. He shrugs the second robe on, pressing an open water bottle into Geralt’s hands before he turns, frowning down at the utter mess of the mat before him. Aiden saunters over, back in his own robe.    
  
“Oh! Aiden. I’m… sorry. Your mat! I’ll pay for-”   
  
Aiden cuts him off with a satisfied wave of his hand, lazy and sated, his own hair sex mussed with a darkening bite mark on his throat.    
  
“Nope. That was worth it. Just. Maybe… take it with you.”   
  
“Consider it a ‘congrats for finally fucking’ gift.” Lambert calls from the chair, where he lounged, still naked, spread on the chair like a particularly pleased large cat. It was only now that Eskel notices a surprisingly large plug on the ground by his feet, the same deep purple as the curtains. He just raises his eyebrows, and Lambert smirks and toasts him and Geralt obnoxiously with his water bottle. Geralt snorts, raising his water bottle in return.    
  
Aiden just smirks, leaning back on the mirrored wall.    
  
“Shall we book your next session?”


End file.
